No arrests as white nationalists hold protest on Halifax bridge

I live in an almost perfect apartment. The rent is cheap; the floors are hardwood. The balcony looks out to a quiet alleyway where kids play street hockey and people walk their dogs. The unit has a classic Montreal triplex layout: I don’t have a dining room, and the kitchen is long and narrow, housing a small table that seats two people (or three, if we really squeeze in). When I moved in as a twenty-four-year-old starting a life in her first solo apartment, this seemed like enough. I imagined that, on the rare occasions when I had friends over for dinner, we could crowd into the...